Whumptober 2019- Stab Wound
by Frankie McStein
Summary: He couldn't lose her. He needed to stay with her, to help her fight. He needed to save her.


"C'mon, girl. Stay with me." It was eerily similar to their time in the water, the time she had lain beneath his hands, not breathing, no pulse. He had gotten her back that time but had woken up screaming night after night following those frantic few minutes. And now he was leaning over her again, begging her to stay with him.

"Ma… Magnum." Her voice was a sob, weak with pain and blood loss.

Part of him wished he could tell her to just let go and spare her from it all. But that wasn't happening. He couldn't let her go. He didn't want to know the world in which she wasn't there to argue with him and push him on.

He pressed down harder, and she writhed at the agony that sparked up inside her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I have to. I have to." He watched as she forced her eyes open, ignoring the tears that were building in them in favor of offering him the smallest smile he had ever seen.

"I know," she assured him.

His stomach twisted a little. She was bleeding out, blood trickling over his hands even as he was trying desperately to keep it inside her. And _she_ was trying to reassure _him_? He huffed a laugh low in his throat at the absurdity of the situation. But then her eyes fluttered, barely opened halfway, and he felt the panic welling up inside of him again.

"Higgins!" His tone was one of warning, trying to tell her she couldn't fall asleep without saying the words again. "Stay with me," he ordered, hoping she would respond to the tone of the command the same way he would. Sure enough her eyes blinked open just a little wider.

"I'm… try…" Just those two words seemed to sap what little strength she had left; her eyes rolled back and her head dropped to the side.

"Higgins? Juliet!" Panic in his voice now as he lifted his hips to add his weight to the strength of his arms. It wasn't enough. It wasn't helping. But there was nothing else he could do.

"You heard Rick. You know they're close. Please stay with me," he pleaded, not caring that the phone line was still open and that his friends could hear him. "Don't leave me, Juliet." He stared at her face, praying for a response. "Damn it, don't you dare do this to me!" Her lips moved, just the slightest twitch, but he saw it.

"That's it. That's it, Higgy. You just keep doing what you're doing. Keep fighting. I need you to do that for me." He didn't dare move, didn't dare sit back down, didn't dare take too deep a breath. If nothing changed, if everything stayed exactly as it was, then she would be okay. She would hold on until the ambulance that he was sure he could hear off in the distance reached them.

He could hear T.C. calling something and knew he should listen, respond; it could be important. But all his attention was focused on Higgins. He couldn't take his focus away from her, not when she needed him so desperately. She was fighting with everything she had but she needed his help, needed him there with her.

So why was he suddenly moving away from her? No! No no no, he couldn't move! He needed to stay where he was! She was going to die. She was going to die! He tried to go back to her, but something was holding him back.

"No!" He fought. She was fighting to stay with him, he would fight to stay with her. But whatever was holding him was strong. So strong. And his best efforts to get away just weren't enough.

There was a voice in his ear, but he couldn't work out what it was saying.

"Juliet!" He was panicking, he knew it. A sort of all-consuming panic that he hadn't felt in years. Dark spots were flashing on and off in front of his eyes, blocking his view of her. She was going to die, and he couldn't even see her! She was…

Wait, it wasn't his eyes. It was a person. There was a person there, blocking his view. He blinked, trying to force his eyes to focus, and saw a white shirt, dark trousers, and a bag. A bag full of medical equipment. He tipped his head back, the buzzing in his ears suddenly coalescing into words.

"Easy, brother."

"It's okay, Thomas."

All the fight went out of him in a heartbeat. He sagged so suddenly Rick fell forward and nearly headbutted him.

"There you are; welcome back." T.C. sounded winded.

Magnum noticed he was panting too and was surprised by how hard he had been struggling against his friend's grasp.

"Higgins?" he asked, craning his neck to try to see past the EMT.

There was a pause before Rick answered. "She's in a bad way. But you know Jules. She's a fighter." And he sounded so certain, so sure that she would keep on fighting, that Magnum felt that same certainty flood through him. And his eyes closed. And his body fell back against T.C. And he was gone.

...

He wanted to stretch, but there was a dull, fuzzy sort of feeling in his mind that spoke of painkillers and warned him that his body would not appreciate moving. Okay, he'd stay still; that was fine. He felt utterly exhausted anyway and wasn't sure he actually had the energy to stretch.

What on earth had he been doing last night? He didn't remember drinking. Had he been in a fight? Maybe a crash? Oh man, if he had to explain another dent on the Ferrari to Higgins he would…

He sat up so quickly his head spun and the room lurched to one side.

"Higgins!" His voice was less of a shout and more of a gasp, and he was sagging alarmingly. But Higgins…

"Easy, T.M., jeez!"

Magnum let Rick pull him back upright and settle him back against the pillows. He didn't have a choice; he was so dizzy he couldn't have stopped himself from falling off the bed. Oh! He was in a bed. His eyes flew open again, and he looked past Rick's worried face to take in the white walls of a hospital room.

"Tommy? You're still with me, right?" Rick sounded apprehensive, and Magnum forced himself to meet his friend's gaze.

"I'm here," he said, trying to push something resembling a smile onto his lips and knowing it came out more like a grimace. "Rick, please…"

"It's okay. Jules is right here." And Rick pointed to the left. Magnum followed his finger, rolling his head carefully over the pillow, to see a second bed. T.C. was standing next to it, regarding Magnum with worried eyes, but Magnum was focused on the figure tucked under the blanket.

He stared until he could see her chest rising and falling with each breath, barely even noticing the blood bag hanging above her head. The relief that washed over him mixed with the pain that was trying to break past whatever drugs he'd been given, and he didn't even realize when his eyes slipped closed again.

He had done it, he told himself, just as sleep was stealing back over him. He had gotten her back again.


End file.
